We are bombarded daily with messages—from advertisers, social media, movies, news outlets, workplaces, families, schools, religious institutions, and politicians to name only a few. Much of this messaging happens beneath our conscious awareness. Neuroscience has even found that the brain can be more active during sleep than while passively watching television—unless we are highly selective about what we consume.

Without realizing it, we internalize countless messages thrust upon us every day. Advertisers and social media platforms use sophisticated algorithms, along with classical and operant conditioning techniques, to shape our beliefs and condition our desires—often convincing us to want things we don’t need. As a society, we have been trained to equate success with money, status, and possessions. We are shown endless images of what the “ideal” woman or man should look like, what success supposedly entails, what we should drive, and even how we should think.

Compounding this, we naturally seek out information that confirms what we already believe. Our choice of news sources, political affiliations, religious orientations, and self-concepts all reinforce a familiar worldview. This tendency has a name.

In his book What Makes Your Brain Happy and Why You Should Do the Opposite, David DiSalvo writes:

“The brain doesn’t merely prefer certainty over ambiguity—it craves it.”

Our need to be right is actually a need to feel right. Neurologist Robert Burton refers to this as certainty bias—a bias that quietly distorts our thinking. Because our brains crave certainty, we often feel anxious or threatened when our worldview—religious, political, or cultural—is challenged, even when compelling evidence contradicts our beliefs.

Seen through this lens, it becomes easier to understand why differing viewpoints, cultures, religions, and ways of life can feel threatening. If my way of thinking is right, good, and true, then your way must be wrong. And if I am good, then you must be bad—or even evil. And evil must be fought.
Right?
Or… is there another way?

This dynamic helps explain why religion—intended as a force for meaning and healing—can become a source of division and conflict. The problem is not any particular religion. The problem is our unexamined minds.

Philosopher and integral theorist Ken Wilber describes moral development as unfolding in three broad stages:

• Egocentric: It’s all about me

• Ethnocentric: It’s all about us

• Worldcentric: It’s about all of us

This parallels Lawrence Kohlberg’s stages of moral development: pre-conventional, conventional, and post-conventional. Wilber suggests that roughly 70% of the world’s population remains at the ethnocentric level, meaning we interpret reality primarily through the lens of our tribe—our culture, religion, nationality, or political ideology.

When ethnocentric worldviews dominate—combined with weapons of mass destruction, vast economic inequality, resource depletion, and environmental degradation—it doesn’t take an Einstein to see where we may be headed.

If humanity is to move toward peace, sustainability, and a shared sense of global responsibility, a critical mass of people must grow into the third stage of moral development: worldcentric consciousness.

Carl Jung was once asked whether there was hope for the world. His response was simple and sobering:

“There is—if enough people do their inner work.”

Each of us is called to wake up from the collective trance and recognize that there is only one human family. As Desmond Tutu reminded us, “We are all family.” Jung and other depth psychologists understood that, at a soul level, we are profoundly interconnected. This insight echoes Jesus’ teaching: “Whatever you do to the least of these, you do unto me.” Einstein, too, observed that our sense of separateness is ultimately an illusion. Even physics now points toward the same conclusion: at an energetic level, we are deeply connected.

Jung believed that neurosis arises from being—or having to be—someone we are not. It is the imprisonment of living according to external definitions of who we should be. Shakespeare captured this brilliantly: “The most confining prisons are the ones we do not know we are in.” Psychological health, then, is not perfection—it is authenticity. As Einstein put it, it is learning “to see with your own eyes and feel with your own heart.”

To wake up and develop awareness is to step outside our emotional conditioning. Daniel Starr describes this as stepping outside the emotional field. Awareness allows us to override unconscious conditioning. It is the foundation of growth, healing, and personal responsibility. With awareness, we gain choice. Without it, we live on autopilot—repeating patterns that are not truly ours. The names, places, and people may change, but the outcomes remain eerily familiar.

As awareness grows, so does choice. And with choice comes the possibility of living more intentionally and creatively.

So how do we wake up from a conditioned, neurotic life?

According to Starr and many wisdom traditions, the first step is learning to become an observer—a witness to our moment-to-moment experience. When we can observe a thought or emotion without identifying with it, we are far less likely to be driven by it. This is a crucial step toward self-mastery.

Equally important is learning to observe without judgment. Self-criticism traps us in emotional reactivity. Awareness, on the other hand, reveals our repetitive patterns and gives us the freedom to choose differently. Self-mastery enhances our effectiveness—not only in our work and vocation, but in our relationships and inner life.

Emotions are states of mind, and we are always experiencing one—whether we realize it or not. Thoughts and emotions are tightly linked. A thought triggers an emotion, which sparks another thought, carrying more emotional “baggage.” Left unchecked, this feedback loop intensifies. Many of us recognize this pattern when we repeatedly replay an upsetting situation and grow increasingly agitated. This process is often called awfulizing or catastrophizing.

The good news? Once we are aware of it, this pattern becomes surprisingly manageable.

Awareness is the cornerstone of self-mastery. So when you first notice yourself awfulizing, reward yourself—not sarcastically, but genuinely. You are associating a positive emotion with awareness, rather than adding another layer of self-criticism.

Negative emotions usually signal a mismatch between what we are experiencing and what we want. Instead of resisting this, we can use it as information. The steps are simple:

1. Reward yourself for noticing the negative emotional state.

2. Identify what you don’t want, and ask: If this isn’t what I want, then what do I want?

3. Imagine and feel what it would be like to have what you do want.

The third step is essential. You are now consciously choosing an emotional state—shifting from conditioned reaction to intentional response. This shift strengthens self-mastery and improves our capacity to handle stress and frustration.

Wherever we place our attention, energy flows. William James, often called the father of psychology, observed that we become what we habitually think about. Neuroscience now confirms this: repeatedly focusing on virtues and strengths actually rewires neural pathways, helping us embody the qualities we value.

Happiness, in the deepest sense, is not something we chase—it is a byproduct of purpose, meaning, healthy relationships, and the feeling that our lives matter. Psychological maturity comes from knowing who we are, taking responsibility for our behavior, accepting our strengths and limitations, and learning to love ourselves—so that we can genuinely love others. As Marianne Williamson reminds us, true affluence is knowing what matters and aligning our lives accordingly.

Each of us is summoned to live our own life—and to wake up from the trance.

The world needs you.

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Suggested Reading

• What Makes Your Brain Happy and Why You Should Do the Opposite — David DiSalvo

• The Essential Ken Wilber: An Introductory Reader

• The Middle Passage: From Misery to Meaning in Midlife — James Hollis